


Take Me Home

by hope_s



Series: Beautiful Trauma [10]
Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: California, Cigarettes, Developing Relationship, Dreams, Established Relationship, F/F, Falling In Love, Flashbacks, I love Lou, Internal Monologue, Motel, Motorcycles, POV Lou, Phone Calls & Telephones, Pining, Post-Canon, Post-Heist, Quitting Smoking, Road Trips, Smoking, Songfic, brief mention of religious imagery, flashback in Paris, the midwest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 10:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20692115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope_s/pseuds/hope_s
Summary: In California, Lou sees Debbie everywhere, and after five weeks it's time to turn back eastwards. She dreams of Debbie, and she knows - finally - that what she feels is truly very simple.Lou calls Debbie from the motel phone because she knows Debbie's curious enough to always answer an unknown number. When Debbie speaks, Lou can hear her smile, and she wishes she were close enough to taste it.But she'll see her tomorrow. Tomorrow...





	Take Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> P!nk: Beautiful Trauma  
(2017)  
Track 7 - Where We Go
> 
> ...
> 
> Got a feeling we gonna get this wrong  
And even I can't be this strong  
It's a breath that you take right before you die  
We lie and lie can't say we didn't try though
> 
> So here we go  
Take my body, not my soul  
Took me high and left me low  
I honestly never imagined we'd get this far
> 
> There's a road that takes me home  
Take me fast or take me slow  
Throw my head out the window  
Feel the wind, make me whole  
Write my name up in the sky  
As we contemplate goodbye  
I don't know, we don't know, where we go
> 
> ...
> 
> Promise me you'll stay with me (stay with me)  
If just for one more night (one more night)  
You can hold me honestly (honestly)  
'Cause it's alright (it's alright), it's alright
> 
> ...
> 
> (Summer 2018)

The flat open roads of the lower Midwest blurred into patches of yellow and green as Lou sped past them. She kept her eye on the Eastern horizon, closing the distance – slowly, but surely – between herself and Debbie. She had lasted a grand total of five weeks before she realized that the pull of the Pacific Ocean was dwarfed by the pull of Debbie Ocean. She had spent nearly three of those weeks riding the California coastline, sleeping in cheap hotels (out of habit rather than necessity), buying lipsticks that made her think of Debbie, and spending evenings with her feet in the surf. It was wonderful, but Lou saw Debbie everywhere, half-expecting her to be waiting for her on a bench at an overlook somewhere north of San Francisco. Debbie hadn’t turned up, and Lou hadn’t _really _expected her to, knew that her wishful thinking was only a byproduct of the distance between them.

It was nice to think of her, though. It didn’t hurt now – not like it had when Debbie had been in prison, not like it had _before _when she had left her ten years ago with half-formed words rough on her tongue. Her chest still ached for her, and Lou’s hands still shook when she thought of the words she had yet to say, but her nerves lingered on excitement rather than anxiety. At night she dreamed of Debbie, and mostly, Lou was happy. For the first time in thirty years, she thought of Australia. It wasn’t home anymore, not the way New York was home, not the way _Debbie _was home, yet it still meant something. The Pacific waters spoke to her, and she found herself thinking about returning to Melbourne one day with Debbie by her side. Maybe they could run a job there, or maybe they could just spend time on the beach and look at the stars that were still _her _stars. She wanted Debbie to see those stars.

Lou wasn’t entirely sure what made her point her compass back eastwards. She had rescued a girl from some men in a bar, remembered watching Debbie do the same a thousand times – remembered _herself_ doing the same a thousand, a _million_ times. The girl was sweet. She had run her fingers down Lou’s leather clad arm and tugged her towards her apartment door, but Lou had refused, and it hit her in that moment that she didn’t just _love _Debbie Ocean – she was deeply and irrevocably _in _love with her, _devoted _to her. She didn’t want to sleep around anymore, even if Debbie was okay with it. She didn’t want to be with anyone else. Some part of her had known since she first saw Debbie walking towards her car in March, some part of her had known since she lost herself when Debbie went to prison, and some part of her – deep down and buried for years – had known since the very first time Debbie kissed her. It had taken her twenty years to listen to herself and turn down an offer of simple, no-strings-attached sex, but that evening she had done it without even thinking about it. Suddenly, all the “I love you’s” she had whispered as Debbie slept seemed to sit more comfortably in her mind. It wasn’t complicated or cryptic anymore. It was simple.

Lou dreamed of Debbie. She dreamed of other things, too, but Debbie was always there. She was _with _her always, even when she dreamt of gas pumps and flashing yellow lines on the road. Once, not long after turning down a night with the bar girl, Lou had woken in a clammy sweat in her overly-air-conditioned motel room with an image of Debbie lifeless and cold still floating before her eyes. _No_, she had thought to herself, telling her brain off for its sinister creativity. _Can’t have that. No. _She would miss California – she already did, now that she was speeding through the corn fields of Indiana. But she missed Debbie a million times more.

**

There was a forty-foot tall cross by the side of the road near the Ohio border. Lou pulled off for gas and frowned up at the towering sight, unsettled by its presence. It made her feel like she didn’t belong here. It wasn’t the religious aspect, though that was somewhat undeniable, it was the obnoxiously American-ness of its size and pretention. Lou loved New York and California; she fit in there. She liked Chicago and a few other places in between – the national parks and towns with good music festivals. But in these dingy and forgotten places springing up between acres of just-about-knee-high corn, she felt like an imposter – or like someone out of an old sepia-toned movie, someone that didn’t _actually _exist. She knew Debbie thrived on that feeling, of being eye-catching and sly in the same breath. Lou was different. In New York, Lou wore loud clothes alongside the heart on her sleeve. Out here, she wore black leather and kept her helmet on as much as possible. With fresh fuel in the bike, Lou took off into Ohio without looking back.

She stopped somewhere between Springfield and Columbus when the sky behind her was turning scarlet and pink. The sunsets were by far the best part about the Midwest, she decided. They were almost as beautiful as Debbie. She pulled into a cheap motel, locked the bike securely, and settled down on the shitty mattress for her customary end-of-the-day, two-hour nap. It was 10 pm by the time she woke up, and she was hungry. There was a Steak & Shake up the road, and Lou bought a sandwich and a milkshake and took the food back to her hotel room.

She would see Debbie _tomorrow_. The truth finally sank in, and Lou had to put her sandwich back down in its to-go container because her hands were shaking so badly. She dug in her pocket for her cigarette case and pulled it out. There was one left, and she had promised herself this would be the last pack she ever bought. She tapped the unlit cigarette against the side of the motel desk, thinking. After many long minutes of blank and half-formed thoughts, Lou cracked the window to her right, lit the cigarette, and picked up the hotel phone. It was fifty-fifty whether Debbie would answer a call from Lou (generally speaking, they weren’t very good on the phone), but if Debbie was thinking about Danny, and Lou felt a need to check to see if she was, she would almost certainly answer an unknown number. Lou dialed and waited.

“Hello?” Debbie answered after the second ring. Lou’s hands stopped shaking the minute she heard Debbie’s voice.

“Why are you answering an unknown number?” Lou asked, smirking because she already knew the answer: Debbie’s mind was fixed on Danny, just as Lou had suspected. 

“Why are _you _calling from an unknown number? Debbie shot back. Lou grinned. She hadn’t expected Debbie to confess to anything, and the banter felt more filling and substantial than the uneaten club sandwich sitting in front of her.

“We could do this all night,” Lou replied.

“I had other plans,” Debbie said through an exaggerated sigh, “but I could try to clear my schedule.

Lou laughed briefly and savored her cigarette, blowing the smoke through the window and listening to the sound of Debbie’s breaths on the other end of the line. Had Debbie been thinking of her? Lou knew her, knew she had probably found something to occupy her mind and her time.

“So, what’s up?” Debbie asked after a few minutes of contented silence. “What are you doing in Ohio?”

Lou was surprised for less than a second before she asked, “Do you know _every _U.S. area code?”

“Prison was boring once I’d perfected the Met job,” Debbie explained impatiently. “Ask me about airport codes sometime, but don’t change the subj—”

“I’m coming _home_, Deb,” Lou said, interrupting Debbie’s admonition. The click-clack sound of Debbie’s heels on pavement stopped, and Lou pictured her frozen on the sidewalk. What Debbie was doing wandering the streets after 11 pm was a mystery to Lou; what she _did _know was that her words had stunned Debbie, and that was saying something. Lou waited, suddenly nervous. Had Debbie been counting on the full two months of solitude? Was Lou intruding on the space that she knew Debbie needed?

“I thought you…” Debbie began and trailed off, but her tone was wistful instead of concerned. It gave Lou hope.

“Christ, Debbie,” Lou teased, “you’re not one to be at a loss for words.” Debbie laughed quietly at that, and Lou heard her begin walking once more, though she offered no verbal response to Lou’s quip. Eventually, urged on by the soft lilt she had heard in Debbie’s voice, Lou spoke again, “I’m not…asking you for anything, okay?” She needed to reassure her, needed Debbie to know that there was not – nor would there ever be – obligation without desire, need without want between them. Lou knew this was big, and she suspected that Debbie knew it, too. Still, it wasn’t _quite _what she meant to say. This was harder than it had seemed in her head. “California was wonderful,” Lou went on, “but I miss New York and…” Lou hoped that Debbie would jump in now so that the words wouldn’t sound so cheesy, but Debbie stayed silent, simply breathing. “…I miss _you_.” Lou heard Debbie fumbling with her keys and then the unmistakably familiar sound of the door of the loft opening and closing behind her. Lou inhaled the last of her cigarette and flicked the butt out of a gaping hole in the screen of the motel window. 

“Yeah, I…” Debbie began at last. Her voice shook a little, as if she hadn’t really expected Lou to miss her. “I miss you, too.”

Lou swallowed around the lump in her throat, wondering if she had gotten this wrong, if leaving Debbie without telling her she loved her meant that Debbie had thought Lou might not care, that she might not come back. But how could she think that after what they had shared during the Met Heist? Everything had been different, hadn’t it? Time and space distorted memories, though, Lou knew that, and perhaps Debbie had tried to forget in an effort not to hope. That would be just like her.

“You better be eating, Jailbird,” Lou said, smirking at her own uneaten sandwich.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m eating. I’m…good.” Lou hoped that the honesty she heard in Debbie’s tone was real, wished she could see her face and make sure she wasn’t lying.

But Debbie sounded happy, so Lou had to ask: “Planning a job?”

“Of course not…” And now the sincerity in her tone was unmistakable. Lou smiled. “I would’ve called you,” Debbie added. _Partners in crime, ride or die_, Lou thought. Oh, she missed her.

“I’ll be home tomorrow,” Lou told her, running the route over in her head and hoping to God for good weather and an early start in the morning.

“Good,” Debbie said. Lou could hear her smile, and she wished that she could taste it. “That’s…that’s good.” Lou almost blushed, knowing that Debbie was holding in how pleased she really was.

“Probably before you can memorize every zip code in America,” Lou teased fondly.

“Doubt it,” Debbie shot back affectionately, “I’m already half-way through them.”

Lou hummed a laugh. “Sleep well, Deb,” she told her. It _was _late, and she herself needed to get some rest before dawn. “You’re sleeping, right?”

“Yes, Lou,” Debbie replied with what Lou recognized as her best attempt at irritation. “I’m sleeping, and I’m eating. Don’t worry, and don’t fall off that stupid motorcycle.”

“Roger that.”

“See you tomorrow,” Debbie murmured, and the tenderness of her voice sent warmth through Lou’s body. 

“Count on it,” she managed, impressed with herself at how she hid the candor of her voice. “Goodnight.”

“’Night, Lou,” Debbie said softly.

Lou took a final second to breathe before she hung up. _Tomorrow_, Lou thought, _tomorrow_. It was so close that Lou could already feel the prickle of Debbie’s proximity running underneath her skin. Lou tipped the uneaten sandwich into the bin and moved over to the bed with her now-somewhat-melted milkshake. She stared at the blank screen of the old television across from her and chewed on the end of her straw. She could leave now. She could drive through the night and get there before noon tomorrow. However, driving at night held risks, and – though it wasn’t exactly her M.O. – Lou really, _really _cared about being alive by tomorrow evening. _Don’t fall off that stupid motorcycle_, Debbie had said.

Lou dragged herself off the bed, brushed her teeth in the tiny bathroom, pulled off her clothes, and collapsed naked on top of the sheets. She was looking forward to showering tomorrow in her _own _bathroom, looking forward to putting something other than cheap motel conditioner in her hair. Her skin smelled like leather and asphalt and petrol. Tomorrow she would fall asleep wrapped in the smell of Debbie’s perfume, and the thought made Lou stifle a moan into the pillow. She reached over and turned off the lamp, letting darkness fill the room.

**

_The gardens outside the Musée du Louvre were dark and strange in the middle of the night. Crisscrossing mazes of low hedges, which seemed neat and trim in the daylight, turned into mysterious wonderlands at night. Lou wasn’t sure why they were there. Debbie had shoved a plane ticket into her hand three days ago, and yesterday they had landed at Charles de Gaulle airport with Lou becoming increasingly confused. _

_“Debbie, _why _are we in Paris?” she had asked skeptically, as they joined the throng of people on the express bus to the Palais Garnier. _

_“It’s _Paris,_” Debbie had said, which had answered less than zero-percent of Lou’s question. _

_Still, by the end of last night, Lou had to admit she was starting to like it. The street food was good, the wine was cheap, and watching Debbie steal a bottle of perfume right out of the Armani showroom had convinced Lou that Paris might just live up to its romantic reputation. No sooner had Debbie checked both of them into a room at the Plaza Athénée than Lou had pressed her up against the wall and slid a hand under her tight skirt. It wasn’t until they were both lying breathless on the bed about half an hour later that Lou had begun to wonder aloud how they had possibly reserved a room under their _actual _names and paid with _actual _money at one of the most expensive hotels in Paris._

_“Tammy,” Debbie had responded with a shrug, which only left Lou with _more _questions as Debbie pulled her by the hand back out onto the ancient, cobblestone streets. _

_Now, lying on the grass between the hedges of the Louvre and gazing up at the starry sky above them, Lou found it difficult to keep her attention on the stars rather than on the woman next to her. Debbie raised herself just enough to take a long swig from the bottle of rosé they were sharing and then lay back, nestling her head onto Lou’s shoulder this time. _

_“Debbie?” Lou said quietly. _

_“Mm hmm?”_

_“Debbie, why are we in Paris, and what did you mean when you said it was because of Tammy?”_

_“Oh, that,” Debbie replied, taking Lou’s hand absentmindedly and playing with her fingers. “Well, Tammy’s retiring – as you know – and she got a big pay out from a job she ran with a team in Montreal. She bought the tickets, paid for the hotel room – which we have for two weeks, by the way. She got us tours practically _everywhere_…” Debbie trailed off and gestured vaguely, seemingly attempting to encompass the whole of the city in the motion. _

_“Then…,” Lou said slowly, still perplexed, “why isn’t Tammy here, too?”_

_“She didn’t want to come, I guess,” Debbie replied unconcernedly. “She said we could do with a vacation, and I wasn’t going to say no to _Paris_, so…here we are.”_

Here we are_, Lou thought. “But…why?”_

_Debbie sighed exasperatedly. “I don’t _know_, Lou. Tammy said something…” Debbie seemed to grasp wildly for exactly what Tammy had said. “…something about ‘figuring things out,’ something about ‘nowhere more romantic’ …I think she just thought we’d like it here.”_

_“I do like it here,” Lou said softly with her lips against Debbie’s forehead. “Right here. With you…” _

_“Sap.” _

_“…as long as you don’t try to make us steal the Mona Lisa.”_

_Debbie scoffed and flung her free hand up to affectionately cuff Lou’s ear. “Please. I will _never _be that boring.” _

_“No,” Lou agreed, “I don’t expect you will.” She nudged Debbie to her feet and pushed herself off the ground, picking up their half-drunk bottle of wine. “Well, honey, it’s 2am in the City of Lights.” She ran a finger along Debbie’s jaw. “Where do you want to go?” _

_“Baby, I’ll follow you anywhere.”_

**

Lou awoke with a smile on her face despite the harsh noise of the motel alarm clock. She flung out an arm to silence it and buried her face in the pillow, thinking of Debbie and of Paris and of Debbie _in _Paris twelve years ago. She would have to thank Tammy sometime, even though her plan hadn’t worked at all. She and Debbie had spent two weeks drinking in every inch of Paris on Tammy’s dime, wrapped up in each other like the very epitome of those tacky padlocks on that about-to-crumble-into-the-Seine bridge, but they hadn’t “figured things out.” They were just…_them_ – bumbling along together, neither of them realizing that what they had was special. _God, we were stupid_, Lou thought. _So stupid. _

Lou pulled herself out of bed and dressed in yesterday’s clothes. There was no point changing since she would be home in New York by the evening. She threw back a cup of mediocre black coffee before checking out of the motel and heading out to her bike in the dim, pre-dawn light. Lou wondered what Debbie was doing right now. She was probably still asleep, face relaxed and lashes fluttering. Her hair was probably spread out in waves over the pillow, perhaps sticking to her forehead in places thanks to the summer heat. Lou caught a glimpse of her own expression in one of her bike’s sidemirrors, and butterflies erupted in her stomach at the soft smile on her face. Debbie had been right all those years ago: she was a sap.

The bike roared to life under her, and Lou pulled onto I-70 just as the sun began to rise. There was hope and the promise of change in the wind blowing hard against her face. This was a bittersweet goodbye to her temperamental past, and an exultant welcome to whatever future lay at the end of this road. Lou was old enough and wise enough to know that the years of want and the hard times were important, that they had shaped her and Debbie into the people they were today. Those years of dancing around one another had been beautiful in their own way, and the dancing had brought them _here_, to this threshold. It was time for something new. It was time to go home.

**Author's Note:**

> SURPRISE, y'all! I'm posting two days early because I got a new job, and I have orientation trainings the next two days in the mornings and then my usual job in the afternoons, PLUS class on Friday, sooooooooo come check on me on Tumblr to make sure I'm still alive by Saturday - @estel-of-irysi. (OR just come check on me on Tumblr because you want to, that's good too). 
> 
> This part of the series is one of the ones I'm most proud of. I <3 Lou always, even though she's cryptic and difficult, but I loved writing this. Sorry not sorry for throwing some shade at that giant cross in New Paris, OH. I lived in Richmond, IN for 5 years and had to look at it A LOT. 
> 
> ALSO, are there hedges outside the Louvre that one can climb around in? There most certainly are, and I recommend it, especially late at night. ;)
> 
> If you want to read Debbie's side of that phone conversation, head to https://archiveofourown.org/works/18453884/chapters/43719392 to read "Diamonds, Rust, and Opals," my first Loubbie fic. After this one, this series will jump ahead to after the events in that one and the events in "Sonata for Silence and Two Pairs and Stilettos," soooooo be sure to check those out. (GIANT HINT for those fics (though not much of a spoiler): YES THERE ARE RINGS INVOLVED, YOU GAYS). 
> 
> ***
> 
> SERIES NOTE:
> 
> There will be 13 fics in this series, so please please subscribe to/bookmark the series in addition to the individual fics. I'm posting the stories chronologically as they fall in Debbie and Lou's timeline, rather than in the track order from the album. New ones will be posted every week, but I'm not sure exactly what days anymore because I'm transitioning to a new job (YAY). There will be pre-canon, film timeline, and post-canon stuff, and it all fits with my Loubbie headcanon found in my other non-AU works. I can ONE HUNDRED PERCENT PROMISE that the series will end happily. 
> 
> ***
> 
> PLEASE LEAVE KUDOS AND COMMENTS I LOVE THEM ALL I'M SORRY I'M YELLING <3


End file.
